


Meetings

by thepinballer



Series: Sing a Song For Me [2]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, im very bad at tagging sorry friends, pretend theyre good.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 23:03:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinballer/pseuds/thepinballer
Summary: persephone arranges a debut for orpheus





	Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> uh the last couple lines wont rlly make sense without the first fic in the series

Orpheus stands in the penthouse, though it’s hardly recognizable anymore. The expensive yet minimalistic home has been transformed into a den of opulence- he felt out of place before, but geez, this is a little ridiculous. Every surface seems to be covered in either plates of food or trays of champagne and wine. The room is lit by dim lamps and hanging lights, everything tinged a pretty purple. One couch has seemingly become three, all draped in pretty furs. The whole place even smells differently. The simple microphone sitting at the front of living room brings a wave of relief. It’s not that he hasn’t done house shows before, but they’ve all been done in basements with artistic poet-types for an audience. Persephone starts to list off the general schedule of the evening, and he realizes that it’s going to be a long night.

 

By the end of his set, Orpheus is almost used to the star-studded crowd. Almost. He keeps his guitar close- the weight of it against his back is a great comfort. He weaves through the people, awkwardly accepting compliments as he makes his way towards the slowly shrinking pyramid of champagne. He carefully takes a glass down. If the whole thing came tumbling down, he would probably just shrivel up and die within seconds. He waits for a moment. Once he reassures himself that the tower is not about to crash and burn, he quickly makes his way to the quietest corner of the room- only for a hand to catch his shoulder.

 

“Don’t go running off yet!”

 

Ahhh. Persephone. Shit.

 

“My husband is  _ dying  _ to meet you, and I’m sick of being the only person to talk to him.” Before he can come up with some sort of out, she drags him over to her husband, and once he’s finally standing in front of Hades himself, he gets it. Despite being only a couple inches shorter than the man, he feels like nothing more than a grain of sand. Persephone was so much warmer than he could have imagined, but Hades seems to fit the bill. Orpheus is used to disapproving looks- busking and bartending don’t exactly provide loving work environments- but this is a new look entirely. Disgust, pity, amusement, and some things he can’t quite put a name to, all wrapped up in one stare. And then the man puts his hand out.

 

Orpheus reaches out with his right hand, his other awkwardly holding the champagne glass close to his chest. “Mr. Hades,” he says, and flinches at the tone of his voice. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Hades’s handshake is firm to say the least. Orpheus swears he can feel his arm pop out of the socket for a moment. “You play a good guitar, boy.” Good god, his voice drags like gravel. Before Orpheus can push out a response, a young woman comes up to Hades’s side and starts asking him something about days and times. Orpheus does his best to ignore the conversation- it’s none of his business, after all- and focus instead of Persephone’s irritated look, but he the woman’s voice keeps drawing him back in. They seem to have settled on something, and the woman turns away from Hades and  _ holy fuck. _

 

Orpheus’s heart stops beating for a moment. He can’t pinpoint what it is about her that causes him to instantly fall in love, and he’s not sure if he wants to. Her hair is choppy, as if she cut it herself, but it frames her face perfectly and has a pretty swing to it. She can hardly be over five feet tall, and yet could definitely kick his ass. Her dark eyes stare at her phone for a moment, and then she looks at him and furrows brow. Her face scrunches up a bit, and it’s frankly the cutest thing that he’s ever seen. Ah. She’s looking at him. That’s not really ideal. 

 

“Soup boy?”

 

Oh, that’s far from ideal.


End file.
